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Last time the Kitty was put on, I had an entire twenty minutes’ notice.  The theme was ‘green’ and they seasoned the usual repertoire with a smattering of punched-up traditional Dwarvish tunes.  The place was a cranny in the very walls of Orgrimmar, scouted and secured by our cunning goblin hosts; as I arrived the thumping bass was disguised by the thrum and pounding of cranes outside the door, serving as unlikely herald of the veritable circus of music and delight inside.

The roaming dance club known as the Stiff Kitty operates about once a month, usually in a different location, always without sanction or permits.  Not every deal that is brokered in the dark corners is legal or savory, and those with a concern for the moral and spiritual well-being of all the Horde might gasp and faint at the things that go on in the shadows.  But one night a month it serves as an escape for me and those others in the know, a chance to get away from dragons and destroyers and Alliance and children and all the troubles of the day and just let loose.

There are precious few rules of the club but those that do exist go something like this:

1. You don’t talk about the club to the Kor’kron or other authorities.
2. You do talk about the club to anyone else who might want to join.
3. The club starts on time and runs until either dawn or the authorities arrive.
4. The alcohol must flow.
5. It’s not a party until Zon’krul loses his shirt.
5a. And pants.
5b. It’s really a party when Urukha loses her shirt.
6. What happens at the Stiff Kitty stays at the Stiff Kitty.
7. When DJ Quartz says scream, you scream.
8. Everyone dances.

…all right, so that last may be my personal rule more than a club rule, but I encourage it regardless.

In the early days of my relationship with Westel the club served a certain purpose for us: compelled to hold each other at arms’ length as we were, dancing was the closest we could get with any semblance of propriety or pretension of abiding by stated rules – “The vertical expression of a horizontal desire,” as the philosopher Bern’ardsha once said – and we savored these nights like drops of water in the desert.  The desire long since sated, we now dance not only with each other but with whomever we choose, but the club is still special to both of us for reminding us of those trying times that formed the foundation for the happiness we have today.

The location of the club changes from month to month; one time it was in an abandoned manse out in the Plaguelands, another in a grounded ship down in Ratchet.  Each time the decor has been fantastic, the dancing has been vigorous and the liquor has been top-notch.  Each time, as I said before, it has been a welcome escape.

It has been three weeks since the last club night.  I’ve not had confirmation on where or when the Stiff Kitty will open this month, but I already am anticipating it eagerly.

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